LOFTY FEELINGS
Tuesday, 3:45 P.M.
I stood on the street corner outside Zander’s loft fifteen minutes before rehearsal was supposed to start, my breath shallow in my chest. I’d been to Zander’s block tons of times. This is just an ordinary rehearsal, I told myself, adjusting the guitar strap that crossed my chest. Nothing is different.
“Let me in!” Rapping on the metal door made my knuckles sting. “It’s arctic out here!”
“It’s open!” Zander’s voice was barely audible over the shriek of jazz music coming from inside the loft.
I hip-bumped my way through the door, almost tripping over Hendrix, Zander’s salt-and-pepper mutt. Hendrix bristled and took a few wary steps back. Even the dog didn’t think my being here was a good idea.
“Easy,” I murmured, trying to remember whether it was dogs or cats that could smell impending disaster. “It’s gonna be fine.”
“What’s up, Miss Simon?” Zander yelled over the music. He was stretched out on a brand-new pool table. His right foot dangled several inches above the painted concrete floor, twitching in awkward rhythm to the erratic trumpet squeals emanating from the speakers. Nelson Lund, Gravity’s keyboardist, was twirling a cue stick like a martial arts weapon. The Beat was filming Nelson with his handheld camcorder. And Kevin, our bassist, was watching from the kitchen table.
I stabbed the POWER button on the stereo by the door, plunging the loft into silence. “How can you listen to that stuff? It sounds like Ella throwing a marathon tantrum. Only more off-key,” I said, eyeing the rest of the guys with surprise. Did Zander really want to give me my “surprise” with an audience?
Zander tsked at the forty-foot ceiling. “That’s like saying Ella could paint a Jackson Pollock just by flinging finger paint at a canvas.”
“You said it. Not me.” I rested my new guitar against the wall, stuffed my hands in my pockets, and perched on the arm of the brown leather sofa in the living area. The spacious, open loft looked exactly the same as it had the last time I’d been here: Two spiral staircases led to sleeping spaces, and exposed metal pipes lined the ceiling like modern industrial sculpture. The smooth concrete was painted different colors to distinguish the kitchen from the living area from the dining room. There was a small breakfast nook in the back corner, where several stools and a mic stand sat in anticipation of Gravity’s reunion.
Only one thing felt different: Seventy-five percent of the band was blatantly ignoring me.
“Um, guys? Hello?”
The Beat briefly swung his camcorder toward me, then refocused on Nelson.
“That’s dude for Welcome back, in case you missed it.” Zander sat up and hopped off the pool table, feet hitting the concrete with a slap. “You guys want a snack before we get started?”
On the copper dining table, his phone started to vibrate. Kevin reached for it, but Zander practically sprinted the few feet from the pool table to the dining area.
“Got it.” He checked the screen, then stuffed his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. “Text.”
“Who was it, bro?” The Beat asked as we moved to the kitchen. Kevin buried his head in the pantry and Nelson whipped open the door to the fridge.
“Nothing. Nobody.” Zander reached for the box of Cocoa Puffs on the marble-topped island and tore it open.
The guys exchanged glances, but nobody looked at me.
“HEY. GUYS. I’M RIGHT HERE,” I shouted, the ball of nervous energy in my stomach suddenly unraveling into full-on anger. “The least you could do is say hi.”
“Okay. You wanna talk?” Kevin hoisted himself onto the island. The cuffs of his gray jeans were so frayed they looked like cowboy fringe. “Why don’t you tell us if you’re back for good, or if we should get you an understudy just in case?”
I balked. His words stung, mostly because deep down, I knew he had a right to be worried. I had bailed on the band once before, when Molly had made me choose between music and my friends.
“I’m in,” I said emphatically, taking a seat on one of the backless silver bar stools. “For good.”
Kevin just shrugged.
“Give her a break, Cho. She said she’s in.” Zander nodded his blue streak at me in encouragement.
“Yeah. Girl deserves mad points for saving us at the showcase,” The Beat piped up in my defense. “If she hadn’t taken over lead vocals, we’d probably still be stalling up there.”
“True, but—” A question mark lingered in Nelson’s voice.
“I saved you because band members have each other’s backs. Which is why I would never bail on you guys again.” I wiped a thin layer of sweat from my temples. It felt like someone had turned up the heat in the loft for the sole purpose of making me squirm.
“I’m just saying, you left once before.” Kevin shook his head, unconvinced. “What’s gonna stop you from bolting again?”
“I said I’m not gonna bolt, and I’m not gonna bolt,” I snapped, whipping my head in Zander’s direction. “Can we change the subject, please?”
Right on cue, the loft’s front door swung open, and a red rolling suitcase toppled through the doorway. Behind it was a girl about our age wearing shiny over-the-knee black wedge boots, distressed gray jeans, and a mesh sweater that hinted at a neon-yellow bra underneath. Her glinting jet-black hair was swept into a messy side braid, and a black-studded wrap encircled her head. Two hot-pink plastic skulls dotted her earlobes.
The girl kicked the door closed with the heel of her boot and headed for the kitchen without a second’s hesitation. She moved with the unhurried confidence of a guy, but her hips were all girl. High school girl, specifically.
“Heyyy!” Zander practically tackled the hot intruder in a giant bear hug, lifting her in the air and twirling her around. Her laugh echoed in the loft. I stared stupidly, feeling like I was watching one of those cologne commercials that promised a rock-star life for those willing to smell like wood chips.
Zander turned back to us and said, “Surprise!”
My stomach bottomed out. Surprise? This strange, gorgeous girl was my surprise?
I should have trusted my instincts. I knew I hated surprises.
Who was this girl? Desperate, I looked to the guys for clues. But Kevin was staring like he’d never seen her before either. His mouth was slightly open and his eyes were clouded. It was the same expression I’d seen on plenty of guys’ faces when Molly wore her leather miniskirt to school.
The worst part was, I couldn’t blame him. The girl was objectively, scientifically gorgeous. Her skin was a deeper olive than Liv’s; her eyes a light, grayish green. And her lips…
… were way too close to Zander’s neck.
“You made it!” Zander said.
“Of course I made it,” she said breathlessly when Zander let her down. Her hair floated in perfect, wispy layers around her heart-shaped face. “What’d you think, I wouldn’t be able to tear myself away from Seattle?”
“Wasn’t sure.” Zander grinned, and then the two of them just stood there, staring at each other with these lame, goofy smiles on their faces. I ran my tongue over my braces, feeling the beginnings of a cold sore on the inside of my right cheek.
Behind me, The Beat coughed.
“Oh, right.” Zander shook his head, like he’d completely forgotten about us. “This is Nelson, Kevin, and The Beat. From Gravity.”
“Hey,” the guys managed.
She waved hello, her clear pink bangle bracelets clacking together. “Aaand… this must be your new girl?” The girl narrowed her kohl-lined eyes at me. The liner extended past the outer corner of her eyes and slightly upward, giving an exotic twist to her features.
“You must be jet-lagged,” I said sweetly. “You’re the new girl. I’m the lead singer. Kacey.”
“Mrow.” Kevin made a catfight noise in my ear. I elbowed him in the gut, but even I was surprised at the edge in my voice. I sounded like the old Kacey. Not the newer, more secure version of myself—the one who wasn’t even supposed to be into Zander because of the Girl Code.
“Kacey.” The girl smiled to herself like my name was some joke the rest of us couldn’t possibly understand. “Oh. I get it. It’s, like, supposed to be retro. Kacey. Cute.”
My face felt hot. “And you aaaare…” Resolving to be nice, I unearthed my best fake Simon Smile, which I hadn’t used since I’d retired from Channel M.
“Stevie,” she said smoothly, locking her gaze with mine. “The lead singer from Hard Rock Life.”
The and your worst nightmare part was implied.